Inspiration Comes Gracefully
by Godsspiker
Summary: Stories inspired by happenings and feelings that are shared by many young women that I thought would be an inspiration to those that need it most.. A collection of drabblesstories.
1. The Pained and the Small

**The Pained, and the Small**

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As she could have imagined, the King's eyes seemed to pass her by. Jealousy wanted to come, but rebelling passive thoughts cooled it before it even touched her heart. So again she hid in her darkness, and felt her Madness come in to comfort her again. 'Worry not,' it hissed, 'I will always be here for you.' Frightened by it, but too afraid to leave it, she settled for it. Better than nothing. Only when the light shone forcefully on her did she remove the dark robes and clothe herself in sunshine. It's uncomfortable warmth made her feel distressed and tense, an unwilling combination to let in. Unfortunately, her best of friends always seemed friends with the strange light, and all knew the King, which forced her into His presence. So many times she watched others come back to the King, and so many times she saw the joy on their faces that for a moment, a sliver of time that stretched on for what seemed like hours, did she want it. Then the comfort and chill of the darkness came into her soul, and it helped her out of the hot and clingy robes of light.

With Madness, came muttered conversations between one and the other.

Arguments, comfort, put downs, loving whispers of a love that was no longer there, all exchanged between the two. 'Why am I with you?' she had asked boldly at one time. Madness seemed to seethe at the question, but quickly recovered itself. Putting a charming grin of sharp fangs and gleaming k-nines, it wrapped its deathly cold hands around her waist and neck and hissed into her ear. 'I am here for you, my dear. You welcomed me to be you friend, and so here I am. Like any other loyal friend, I will always be with you, and never, ever let you go.' The words stuck with her. And any time she was caught thinking of some other friend, it was quick to point out downfalls that it promised only it could see. And so she lay on her bed, broken and weary, unwilling to hurt and change for the sake of keeping her pain locked inside. Besides, she was only small and unneeded in such a large kingdom. The King had many other lovely young women to stick by him like glue. What uses was she, the ugliest dark haired, pale faced, intruder that never came around to ask him of his love?

Little did she realize that the King did notice. Every time that she came around with the robe he had given her, he saw pain and darkness lick the bottoms of the robe. It didn't shine, but unwillingly flickered, and she was the darkest spot in the crowd of bright and shining robes. His eyes trailed after her as she left every time, wanting her to tell him her hurts and pains, even though he knew every one of them. He had waited and waited, for what seemed like an eternity until he could wait no longer, for fear, Madness would consume her and carry her away in the torrents of his lies.

She removed her clothing and crawled into the sheet less bed, staring at the ceiling as the darkness and coldness of Madness swept through her. Not wanting it to go on, she continued to stare at nothing. She didn't notice her body chill and go numb. She didn't notice her breathing slow and still. She didn't notice the darkness beginning to move, the shadows moving in for the kill. She just knew that only Madness was there for her and that there was nothing else to live for. And suddenly her sightless eyes saw a burst of color and a bright light. In his entire splendor, the King appeared in his wondrous silver robes, and called her name. Wait. Her name? He didn't know her name, did he? When he called again, this time in desperation, she felt a jolt of hope. And then Madness was there by her side. It stroked her palm and garbled. 'He can't know you name dearest. There are thousands of others that go by that same name.'

Her surge of hope dissipated the moment it said it. Turning her eyes from his glory, she allowed Madness to take her limp hand and lead her to the darkness she knew all too well. 'Halt you miserable spirit of Hades!' the King shouted. Madness stopped with much deliberation. 'Let go of her!' He commanded. Her hopes soared and she turned, hoping against all odds that he was going to save her. The King smiled and opened his arms. She looked around timidly. There was nobody in sight. Her eyes questioned, shining with tears. He nodded. 'Come to me, my love.' He whispered. Madness shrieked in rage, his hold on her slipped as she ran into the King's arms. 'Get back here you worthless cow! You're disgusting and no one could ever love you! I am your only friend! ME!' he howled. The King commanded the cold dark one to leave, and after cursing and spitting, it disappeared into a puff of dark blue smoke.

The King smiled tenderly at her. He touched her cheek and kissed her mouth. 'How I've missed you, love. Be mine, my love. I want you and always have.' Her heart's hard stonewalls crumbled and the true light from inside it poured fourth in a number of shaky emotions she had never felt before. The love in the King's eyes was for her. Just for her and nobody else. He removed her dark, damp and heavy robe, and took the special robe; the one made just for her, and draped it on her shoulders. 'I am yours, my King.' She whispered through the tears of joy that she cried.

The once small longing grew into a starved want and need for the King. He laughed joyously and took her lovely smiling face into his palms. She could feel scars on them and she took them. 'They're for you, my love. I gave myself to you long ago. I have waited so long to hear you say you would give yourself to me.' He said, looking into her blue eyes. His finger traced her face and the light that came about it spread throughout her entire being. She glowed beautifully in the King's light, and he took her hands. 'Come and meet my Father. I have told him all about you.'

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**Author's Note: This was truly inspired by God. Believe it or not, I just sat down thinking about Him when I wrote it, and I was so lonely. If you read Captivating, you would really get what kind of relationship He wants with us as women. Thanks for reading! Godsspiker!**


	2. More Than That

**More Than That..**

I heard what you said today.

"What's that place ever done to you?" You questioned, a brisk harshness in your voice. No doubt rested in my mind you'd been there before, and I tried to answer without stirring you into a fight or ending up in tears. So I just sat there, watching that horrible life pass by, not really willing to tell you what I'd felt. You'd seen a woman before, disrobed before you dancing for your pleasure. Truthfully, I wanted to say it'd degraded me, made my skin crawl with questions and assumptions that maybe you were seeing me like that, before you and not me as a person. It made me cringe, wanting to scrub myself under a perusal glance that could mean you declothing me and degrading me. As I sit there, I flinch under your every look, still wondering if that was what you were thinking of.

I know I'm not her, that one that you may have looked on, and I'm sure that you don't always look at me like that, but when the realization struck me I couldn't help but want to cry and pull my jacket closer to further cover me. I'm not like that. And no doubt that woman you'd seen was like that either. Though she hides her pain at every stare and glance, she is crying inside. You aren't seeing her the way she was meant to be seen, not in the way that God intended. Have you considered your treachery and betrayal every time you look at her, looking at me at the same time? We are the same, we have the same body with the same God-given pieces and anatomy. I am her. I come from the same ground as she did. When you look at her in the bar, or even in a magazine, you're seeing me.

Like a gift. That's what we are. Sometimes we feel like you simply shred the thin tissue that surrounds the beauty inside, not really caring to open the box at the treasures inside, but simply tearing off the wrapping paper in some frantic need to pleasure yourself in even a glance at what lies beneath that first layer. And we cry out in pain, in shame without even opening our mouths for you to hear us, praying that you'll hear the silent pleadings of our hearts. Sometimes, the package that is so needlessly and shamelessly torn apart isn't even yours. Regardless of the name written to that one person, it feels like you don't care that there is someone we were meant for. Secretly hiding a pleasure, for the right one and knowing he will come along to take pleasure to slowly unwrap and feel every inch of the precious paper that wraps us up in our parcel. Carefully lifting out the box that's been delicately carved just for him, and nobody else. And in the end, lifting the lid to find such beautiful pleasure inside that one box. I'm not ready for you to see me. I'm not finished, I haven't been given to you yet! I want to cry out and stop you from looking at her so I can give you the gift originally meant for me to give you.

Please, think about that. You see me, my body is like every other woman's, but mine was made for you, that one person that I am willing to share it with. Don't let her or any other spoil your gift, it wasn't meant to be that way. I beg of you, let me give you what is rightfully your's, don't steal it from someone else! Wait for my carving to finish, so I can give you a beautiful pleasure that will curl your toes, leave you breathless, and ultimately be exactly what you wanted from the beggining. Please, remeber what you are seeing, that she is me, but isn't what I am, and that I am being finished just for you. Don't look to someone else for a quick pleasure. Have patience, love, and wait to see me. I'm waiting for you.

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**A/N: I'm sure you're wondering what brought this strange piece from me on. Today, at work me and my fellow workers passed by a local men's club. One of the guys said that exact thing, and it left me a little shaky inside. Call it divine inspiration, call it whatever you want, but this is what I feel about my body. I know that EVERY girl wants to wait for that one person to wait for them to be finished carving themselves and making themselves something that they know that one man will take absolute pleasure in, and just that one comment was enough to make me feel like cringing and cussing that guy out.**

**I will say this: I am more that any topless dance, and every stripper, prostitue, whatever is exactly like me. We are more than just animals for other's viewing pleasure, and I just really wanted to clarify that part of me and my writings. Don't feel prompted to review, but reviews, as well as flames are more than welcome. **

**Thanks for hearing me out.**

**Godsspiker**


	3. The Cure

**Black and White**  
(part one)

Feeling as though I have been struck by lightning,

Black and white colors change me and blend me into the shades of a gray world.

Little does anyone know that people have purposely covered my bright eyes with steel

and my peach skin with gray.

My once rosy cheeks and freckled face are white and light gray.

My brown hair is black and my hands are pale.

My personality is simply diced.

Things normal are kept; and gifts are cut off and suffocated, ignored and put down.

To them, I am no more than another with overrated dreams and crazy thoughts.

I am just another, not a somebody, yet a nobody, hanging on the frail thread of acceptance.

These are symptoms of what one feels when they are put down, shut up, turned away, and ignored.

These are the common feelings of loneliness.

**The Cure**  
(part two)

Thankfully I have found a cure, a potion to fix these symptoms.

The potion is simple, for those desperate for a way out.

For others, it is sour and hard to swallow.

Still others would scoff and claim to enjoy their loneliness.

This potion takes dedication, a promise to swallow a cupful everyday, unaltered and in the same way.

So now I present the mix.

The ingredients aren't hard to find.

They are in everyday things, like the smile from a stranger walking by, or the kiss of a loved one.

The ingredients are

Love, Hope, Trust, and Honesty,

Kindness, Cherishment, Faithfulness, and Purity.

Take time to notice these things and reflect on them each day.

Little by little symptoms of loneliness fade away.

**A/N: ...**


	4. Bottlecaps

**Bottle Caps**

**xXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXx**

In my room, on my desk, sits a bottle cap. This bottle cap was from a Sobe bottle, Black and Blue Berry Brew, only a dollar fort-nine. I bought it quite some time ago, at the begining of the year of 2006. Little did I know that I got a message from that bottle cap that would stay with me for the rest of my life. I originally bought it for a trip I was invited to go on. A close friend of ours invited me to go four-wheeling with him and his father, meeting another two four-wheelers on the way there. It would be the first time in my life I'd ever gone four-wheeling. We stopped at a local store and there I was allowed to pick out a drink. Well, my choice was aparrent, although it was a toss-up at the time between Jones Green Apple and Sobe.

We did go four-wheeling, and I ended up hitting the dirt my first half-hour. The farm bike threw me off after hitting a sharp hill, knocking the wind out of me. My friend's dad happened to be riding behind and stopped, laughing at my grin. I was embarassed, but rather proud when I got right back on and started off again. I never hit the sand again that day. Later that afternoon we stopped and went back to the meeting point for lunch. I opened up my sandwich and chowed down, scarffing it down like a ravenous wolf. After about three hours straight of trail riding I realized you had to have some serious stamina to be a four-wheeler, and I was already feeling the side-effects of such a long grueling day of fast riding. I opened up my Sobe bottle, swigging about half of it down, then resting before taking another long drink. Looking down at the bottle cap, knowing it was going to say something weird like, "Here lizard lizard!", or something else, but what I read made me laugh out loud. It said, "I'm with ya girl!". I'd never seen anything that applied to me so much, but I felt so relieved, and so peaceful. God had spoken to me through a bottle cap, and while I thought it was a quick jesting reminder, I never thought that I would need it so much later in my life.

That night I went home tired and beat, ready for a long night's sleep. Unfortunately, my parents had discovered something about my sister, whom had been having rough times before. While I wanted to sleep, I was constantly interrupted by the sound of my parent's voices. Once the talk was over, and my sister stormed downstairs, I could finally sleep in peace. The next day was a Saturday, and I had slept in a record time of 10:50, or later. I yawned and got up, stretching as I went upstairs. Nothing could've prepared me for what I was about to see. The look on my parents' faces stopped me cold. It was a look of sad worry, anger, kind of that kicked puppy look you get from a kid after denying him a cookie. When I asked what was wrong, the answer I recieved was like a punch to the stomach.

"Nichole's run away."

Just the thought scared me, but knowing my sister had actually left the note, grabbing nothing on the way out but what she was wearing made me want to cry then and there. Thankfully, I didn't, wanting to stay strong for my parents. My parents were honest with me, telling me everything. My sister had been involved with guys, and more than just a couple. She wouldn't be found for another three days, and even then, she was dishonest with us. She lied to us, slapping us in the face and causing more pain to us than I could bear, constantly leaving in the dead of night without our knowledge, stealing things, and on and on. It went on for a month, though it seemed like a year. Later, after confessing to things we already knew, she introduced one of her boyfriends and claimed to want to marry him. This was the choice: We would let her marry, or she would continue her nightly runs, endangering the younger members of our family to strange acquantances, and so on.

The elders of our church came to talk to her. Our pastor. Our pastor's wife. Our elders wives. Women from our church, my parents, everyone said they could convince her othewise. Everyone was wrong. We weighed it out. My parents decided to let her marry. It was that, or risk having me, or even my little brother raped or killed by some stranger or theif influenced by my sister.  
I was upset, but everytime that I remembered the cap that sat on my desk, that simple phrase of, "I'm with ya girl!" I felt comforted. God had given me a blessing in disguise, knowing I would need His reassurance in the coming days. Since then, I've told my youth pastor's wife, who teared up at the story. She told me it was a miracle from God. And it was. God was reminding me He was there with me, through thick and thin, and He'd find some way to talk with me. Even if it was through something as simple as a bottle cap. So from now on, everytime I open up a cap I look on the bottom, seeing if God has something else to say to me. I'll never forget the bottle cap, and I will never get rid of it, remembering always that God has something to say.

**A/N: ...**


	5. Pride

Inspiration Comes Gracefully:

A/N: I submitted this for the DA's 7 Deadly Sins contest! Wish it luck!

* * *

Pride.

What is pride. Is it the man on the corner wooing a woman but has a wife? Or is it the triumphant little boy carrying home a lost kitten.

Maybe it's the woman who discovers a pill that prevents pregnancy and flaunts herself for all to see. Perhaps pride is a sin, in which the partaker has an infinite burst of pleasure, then careens back to the ground on his face.

Does Pride really go before a fall?

Or maybe comes the fall, then the Pride to match it. Because in the end, that man will succeed in his seduction, that kitten the boy carried home will die in it's sleep, and the woman.. The woman will become pregnant. Of course the payment of sin is supposed to be death, sin in it's ripest hour gives birth to death.

Death meaning the boy the woman had?

The man with a wife and the pregnant woman, maybe their boy is death. The pride in his sin, the man with the wife has another virginity under his belt and the flaunting woman has a boy, growing up without a father to call him his pride.

Maybe the sin gives birth to death is the way the boy grows up.

Pride, the sin, being the gun to the man's head and pulling the trigger as the boy questions the corpse where he's been all the boy's life. And while the man's 'pride' is killed, the boy turning the gun on himself and shoots, the man's wife and the boy who brought the kitten home, weep without knowing the father's pride.

The boy without a father.

Pride.

Is it really a sin?

When the boy who brought home the kitten grows up to be nothing like his father? And he loves the woman he one day married, carrying on their marriage with pride and his first child, his pride and joy, is born the day his father dies, turning the day of mourning into a celebration.

We will

never know.

Pride.

Is it the man on the corner with the flaunting woman... Or is it the man's wife and her boy mourning the death of the kitten as pride is brought into the world..

That answer, is in the eye of the beholder.

That means, you decide.


End file.
